Free Tom Hyman by Jupiter's Daughter

music professor, Matty, one previous boyfriend, and another professor, who had forced himself on her in his office. None of them had given her pleasure like this. If she wasn’t yet in love, she decided, it was certainly a great beginning.
    A month later, Anne Marie Beauregard and Dalton Francis Stewart III were married at a small private ceremony on Long Island. Dalton apologized for insisting that everything be done so quickly, but there were so many demands on his time, he felt that if they didn’t get married now, the opportunity might be lost forever.
    After a short honeymoon in the Caribbean, Dalton parked Anne in his estate on Long Island and went on with his life as before. She rarely saw him anymore. The last time had been a week ago. He was just back from somewhere and on his way to somewhere else. They had dinner and spent the night at the family’s brownstone on Fifth Avenue. The next morning he was gone.
    The sex that night had been rushed and perfunctory. Dalton brought her some gifts and asked her if there was anything she needed. Otherwise, he was his usual distant, distracted self.
    Thinking back on that incredible courtship, Anne now saw it in a new light. Dalton had approached their relationship as if it were a contest and she were the prize. Once he decided he wanted her, he had gone after her, pulling out all the stops. And her early resistance had only increased his determination. He wouldn’t quit until he had subdued her.
    She had consented, she realized with some mortification, just because it was so much a part of her nature to be agreeable. He had bulldozed her, and she had been too polite and intimidated to resist, or to insist on a larger say in matters. She hadn’t negotiated with him.
    She had surrendered to him. And now that he had the prize, his interest in her had faded. Professions of love notwithstanding, he didn’t seem to want a real relationship. He didn’t seem to care who she was or what she wanted out of life.
    She had tried to persuade Dalton to let her take a job in Manhattan—she had been offered a research position at the Rockefeller Institute that she very much wanted to take—but he had talked her out of it. He told her that her social status made any job, especially a career, out of the question. While he succeeded in the world of business, he expected her to succeed for them in the world of society.
    It wasn’t enough to be rich, he insisted; one also had to know the right people, do the right things, be seen at the right places. It was up to her to see to these matters. That was to be her career.
    She had tried, but she had little feeling for society and its demands, and no desire to rise in it. It was all painfully boring and phony.
    And then there was the matter of children. She had told him before they were married how much she wanted children—how important a family was to her. He had agreed enthusiastically. It was important to him also.
    But he had insisted from the very beginning that she use birth control.
    One night, after a particularly torrid bout of lovemaking, he asked her if she was remembering her pills.
    “What if I said no?” she asked teasingly.
    “I’d be upset,” he replied.
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    “Why? I thought we were going to have children. Why wait?
    I’m ready now.”
    “No, you can’t,” Dalton replied, his voice suddenly tight.
    “I can’t? Why not?”
    Dalton remained silent.
    “You’re frightening me, Dalton,” she said. “Talk to me. Why can’t I?”
    Dalton sat up in bed. “I’ve got a problem,” he whispered. “A bad gene. It can be inherited. It causes severe retardation.”
    Anne could scarcely believe his words. She felt as if he had punched her in the stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “You owed it to me to tell me.”
    Dalton hid his face in his hands. “I know. I know. I wanted to.
    Believe me. But I was afraid you’d back out of the marriage.
    I didn’t want to risk losing you.